Lottie snivels and Laura gives her a bounce. The baby whimpers and Laura changes shoulders, and suddenly Katherine will do anything on behalf of this new, impossible friendship.
“I could watch her,” Katherine offers, but is this what she wants? Taking this child on? Holding on for a while more?
Laura turns and looks searchingly at Katherine. “You would do that? Really?” The baby has dropped her grip on the necklace in favor of her young aunt’s chin, which she’s pawing with her fist. A bead of sweat makes its way past Laura’s ear, and now sits ready to plummet down the pale cavern of her neck.
“I have rather had my fill of the exhibition,” Katherine says, her voice sounding strange to herself, “and I prefer the view from up here. Besides,” she says, touching the backof Lottie’s head, smoothing her dress, “your niece seems in need of a new variety of entertainment. All this stuff”—and Katherine gestures toward the exhibition hall—“is just so much stuff after a while. Even a child can see that.”
Laura looks from Lottie to Katherine and back. She glances down across the exhibition hall, as if scanning the floor one last abject time for her sister. “Actually,” she says, “it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. If you’d be willing, I’d be grateful.”
“I’d be willing,” Katherine says.
Laura gives Katherine one more long look, then fits her hands beneath the tiny cups of Lottie’s arms. Katherine reaches and suddenly Lottie is hers—a warm, damp weight and two scrunched-up, needy fists. Katherine moves the child about until she fits in her arms. Laura reaches in and smoothes the child’s dress.
“I won’t be gone long. And if you need me—if she fusses—just come and find me. You’ll be able to see me from here.”
“We’ll be fine. I’ll walk her about a bit. Keep her distracted. Take her upstairs, to the rooftop, for the broader view.”
“Let me give you something. Get you—”
“You’d take the fun out of it for me. Really, you would. We’ll just go and have a look around. We’ll meet again, right here. Five o’clock?”
“You’re the nicest Philadelphian I’ve met all week long.”
Katherine laughs. “There are others,” she says. “Honestly.”
Laura smiles. “You be good now, Lottie,” she says, touching her finger to the child’s miniature nose. The baby squirms and kicks out her feet. She starts to fuss, and Katherine moves her from one arm to another, adjusts her grip. “She’s got a mind of her own,” Laura warns.
“Well, that makes three of us.”
“Do you want anything? Are you sure you don’t?”
“I’m sure.”
“Five o’clock, Katherine,” Laura says, putting a lilt at the end of Katherine’s name, a near question. “Right here at the turn of the stairs. I promise.” And then: “Thank you.”
Glancing back over her shoulder, Laura takes long strides toward the steps. Then she turns, straightens her shoulders, and smoothes her hands across her blueberry costume. Lottie kicks her little cotton-swathed feet. “Now, now,” Katherine says, but Lottie squeals. Katherine resettles her, but the child protests again.
“Mind of your own, is that it?” Katherine says gently. “What do you say to a change of view?” Bundling the bobble of heat even closer, Katherine steps toward the uprising stairs, where others are headed—all afternoon they’ve been headed—to get the rooftop view of the Centennial grounds, of Philadelphia, of the world, as far as it will yield. The elevator slides by them, and Katherine doesn’t care;she climbs. Pressing against Katherine’s chest, Lottie waves her tiny clenched fists. Sometimes her face rubs against Katherine’s.
“What do you think so far?” Katherine whispers into the child’s ear, midway up the stairs. She feels a warm wet tear begin to fall from her right eye, her lungs sobbing for air within her chest, something going weak in her arms. Lottie gurgles her
“I could watch her,” Katherine offers, but is this what she wants? Taking this child on? Holding on for a while more?
Laura turns and looks searchingly at Katherine. “You would do that? Really?” The baby has dropped her grip on the necklace in favor of her young aunt’s chin, which she’s pawing with her fist. A bead of sweat makes its way past Laura’s ear, and now sits ready to plummet down the pale cavern of her neck.
“I have rather had my fill of the exhibition,” Katherine says, her voice sounding strange to herself, “and I prefer the view from up here. Besides,” she says, touching the backof Lottie’s head, smoothing her dress, “your niece seems in need of a new variety of entertainment. All this stuff”—and Katherine gestures toward the exhibition hall—“is just so much stuff after a while. Even a child can see that.”
Laura looks from Lottie to Katherine and back. She glances down across the exhibition hall, as if scanning the floor one last abject time for her sister. “Actually,” she says, “it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. If you’d be willing, I’d be grateful.”
“I’d be willing,” Katherine says.
Laura gives Katherine one more long look, then fits her hands beneath the tiny cups of Lottie’s arms. Katherine reaches and suddenly Lottie is hers—a warm, damp weight and two scrunched-up, needy fists. Katherine moves the child about until she fits in her arms. Laura reaches in and smoothes the child’s dress.
“I won’t be gone long. And if you need me—if she fusses—just come and find me. You’ll be able to see me from here.”
“We’ll be fine. I’ll walk her about a bit. Keep her distracted. Take her upstairs, to the rooftop, for the broader view.”
“Let me give you something. Get you—”
“You’d take the fun out of it for me. Really, you would. We’ll just go and have a look around. We’ll meet again, right here. Five o’clock?”
“You’re the nicest Philadelphian I’ve met all week long.”
Katherine laughs. “There are others,” she says. “Honestly.”
Laura smiles. “You be good now, Lottie,” she says, touching her finger to the child’s miniature nose. The baby squirms and kicks out her feet. She starts to fuss, and Katherine moves her from one arm to another, adjusts her grip. “She’s got a mind of her own,” Laura warns.
“Well, that makes three of us.”
“Do you want anything? Are you sure you don’t?”
“I’m sure.”
“Five o’clock, Katherine,” Laura says, putting a lilt at the end of Katherine’s name, a near question. “Right here at the turn of the stairs. I promise.” And then: “Thank you.”
Glancing back over her shoulder, Laura takes long strides toward the steps. Then she turns, straightens her shoulders, and smoothes her hands across her blueberry costume. Lottie kicks her little cotton-swathed feet. “Now, now,” Katherine says, but Lottie squeals. Katherine resettles her, but the child protests again.
“Mind of your own, is that it?” Katherine says gently. “What do you say to a change of view?” Bundling the bobble of heat even closer, Katherine steps toward the uprising stairs, where others are headed—all afternoon they’ve been headed—to get the rooftop view of the Centennial grounds, of Philadelphia, of the world, as far as it will yield. The elevator slides by them, and Katherine doesn’t care;she climbs. Pressing against Katherine’s chest, Lottie waves her tiny clenched fists. Sometimes her face rubs against Katherine’s.
“What do you think so far?” Katherine whispers into the child’s ear, midway up the stairs. She feels a warm wet tear begin to fall from her right eye, her lungs sobbing for air within her chest, something going weak in her arms. Lottie gurgles her
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